


A Betting Woman

by lajulie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Cooking Lessons, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gift Fic, Mutual Pining, not fooling anyone but themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 08:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11710737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lajulie/pseuds/lajulie
Summary: "No kiss, no credits." Han and Leia team up to try to outsmart the Rogues at their own game, and manage to learn a few things in the process. Some good old-fashioned pre-ESB friendship and mutual pining on Hoth.





	A Betting Woman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corellian-smuggler](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=corellian-smuggler).



> Happy 2017 HanLeia Gift Day! This fic was made especially for @corellian-smuggler on Tumblr, who loves OT Han and Leia and hopefully a nice grilled cheese sandwich. Hope you enjoy it!

“Got a proposition for you, Sweetheart,” Han said, smirking at Leia as he sat down beside her at the dejarik table.

Leia’s eyes did a half-roll before she answered. “What, you’re gonna ply me with asteria water and have your way with me?” she quipped, picking up her bottle and taking another drink.

Han managed to look lightly flirtatious and mildly offended at the same time. He raised an eyebrow. “You know I don’t have my way with any woman unless it’s _her_ way, too.” He pulled a crate closer and casually propped up his feet. “Nah. I think you’ll like this one.”

She tilted her head toward him. “All right, I’ll bite,” she nodded. “What does this proposition entail?”

His grin widened. “Revenge.”

* * *

He’d asked her to come a little early for dinner, claiming to need her small hands for something he was trying to repair on the _Falcon_. Chewie would be back from patrol shortly, and Luke was a regular part of the group’s septday evening dinners as well. As long as the _Falcon_ was on base, they’d gather there, have a meal of _actual_ food for a change (the ingredients Han found on their various supply runs being far more appealing than the rations and rehydrated food typically on offer at the mess), and spend time talking or playing cards until it was time for sleep.

The repair that had been the ostensible reason for her early arrival had taken all of five minutes, so Han had invited her to sit down at the dejarik table to wait for the rest of their group to get back. The bottle of asteria water, a rare product from her home planet, had appeared before she’d even asked for it. Clearly, Han was trying to butter her up.

But _revenge_ —well, Leia hated to admit it, but revenge sounded awfully appealing after the week she’d had. “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

Han was still grinning. “Hit ‘em where it hurts. Their wallets.”

Leia raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

“You know—“ Han looked a little sheepish for a second, and Han never looked sheepish. “You know about the bets. Right?”

“Betting? On Echo Base? My stars!” Leia feigned a swoon, and Han laughed.

“All right. Then you know there’s nothing the Rogues hate more than a bet they can’t win.” Leia nodded. “Like—a bet about you and me.”

Leia hoped her flush wasn’t obvious. She’d heard the rumors, had even heard that there was some kind of bet about the two of them, but she and Han had never talked about it. She wondered whether he felt the tension she did sometimes when they were together, like one wrong move and the balance would tip where it shouldn’t go. Where she couldn’t go.

But back to the matter at hand. “How are you proposing to mess that up for them?” she asked.

“So, the bet is that we’re gettin’ together, right? Or already did. Anyway, there’s a rule: no kiss, no credits. Gotta have proof or you can’t win.”

Leia’s eyebrow went up again. “How did you find that out?”

“Chewie told me. Was workin’ on the _Falcon_ , heard Janson mouthing off about it.” That made sense. Wookiees had exceptional hearing, a fact that most humans tended to forget. Chewie knew all the gossip on base just by being quiet and in the right place at the right time.

Leia took another drink of water. “Okay…”

“So I figure, we make them think they’ve caught us—and then, nothing.”

Leia chuckled. “They’re not going to give up trying, you know.”

“Maybe not after the first time. But if we make it believable…”

Leia narrowed her eyes, though she was smiling. “This isn’t your secret plot to get me in bed with you, is it?”

“Would it work?” he teased.

“NO.”

“You know it’ll drive ‘em crazy. Revenge, remember?”

“Hmm.” Leia regarded him carefully. “I can see why _you_ like this. What do _I_ get out of it?”

Han removed his feet from the crate they were resting on and sat up. “I got an inside guy. Gave him some credits to bet against us getting together. Whatever we win, you can have for the Alliance or whatever you want.”

Leia was still skeptical. “An inside guy? Chewie?”

“Give me a little more credit than that, Your Worship. They’d figure that out in a hot second.” He lowered his voice and bent closer to her. “It’s Rieekan.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Carlist? Why would he—?”

“He was pretty pissed about the…droid thing,” he said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

Leia felt a wave of anger go through her at the memory of that particular prank, even though it had happened days ago. Someone had reprogrammed a cleaning droid and set it loose in her briefing, where it had proceeded to bounce off the walls cursing loudly in at least seven languages, completely drowning out the mission details she was trying to share with the group.

The fact that everyone else seemed to have found it so hilarious had hurt more than she’d wanted to admit. _I’ve worked my ass off, fighting for the Alliance, making this frozen hellhole into a working base, trying to earn your respect. But all I am to you is a joke_ , she’d thought.

Now that she remembered it, Han had been one of the few people (Carlist being another) who hadn’t found it funny, which seemed odd. She hadn’t originally connected him with the disappearance of the droid in question, but she’d heard it had been found with its arms missing and all the wiring ripped out. _Chewie_ , she realized, which meant that Han must have told him what had happened.

Han was grinning at her. “So what do ya think, Princess? You in for revenge?”

Leia returned his grin with her own. “All right. I’m in.”

* * *

In some ways, their little plot made things a bit easier. Leia hadn’t realized how often she had been watching herself, trying to make sure she didn’t look like she was favoring Captain Solo or appearing to be too friendly with him. Now, she figured that it just played into the game: if people wondered about the two of them, it helped set the trap. She knew that nothing was actually going on, so she didn’t have to worry about it.

She was a bit startled at Han showing up in her office, however. Her shift was officially over, but she didn’t want to go to bed yet, and there was always more work she could find to do.

“How about a little pretend rendezvous, Sweetheart,” he purred into her ear. The hair on her neck stood up, in a good way. She hadn’t heard him come in.

But she knew how to play her part. She took a step back. “Did you need something, Captain Solo?” she said brusquely, and loudly enough for anyone eavesdropping to hear.

He was undeterred. “Just came to remind you to come by for your, uh, _lesson_ later on tonight,” he said, cool as the ice caves around them.

“Yes, of course. Thank you for the reminder,” she said, her exterior just as cool but her mind racing underneath. _It’s just part of the setup, Leia. Don’t freak out. This doesn’t mean anything_.

“1900 hours is comin’ up,” he said, sauntering out of the room with a smile. “Don’t be late.”

* * *

“She’s coming! She’s coming!” Hobbie was calling. “ _Told_ you what I heard!”

“Shhh, you’ll wake up the whole base,” Wedge warned in a whisper, grabbing the binoculars from Hobbie. “Yeah, that’s her all right.”

“What’d you say they were talking about?” Janson wondered. “A lesson?”

“Can’t imagine what Solo’s going to teach her,” Hobbie snickered.

* * *

“Hey,” Han greeted as Leia came into the lounge.

“Hey,” Leia returned. She looked around. “Where’s Chewie?”

“Sleepin’,” he said. He jerked his head toward the doorway from which Leia had come. “They outside?” he asked.

Leia chuckled. “Oh, yes.” She shook her head. “And I thought Luke was bad at sneaking around.”

Han shrugged. “Eh, Luke’s not bad at stealth. It’s _spy stuff_ he’s no good at.” It was true. Luke had a lot of trouble keeping his cover stories straight when they went on undercover missions, which is part of why they hadn’t let him in on their “counter-bet,” as Han called it. Besides, if they convinced Luke, they would probably be able to convince the rest of the Rogues.

“So what are you teaching me?” Leia asked. Han looked confused. “If this is really just an innocent lesson, I have to learn _something_ ,” she pointed out.

They were interrupted by the sound of Leia’s stomach growling loudly.

“All right, Princess,” Han said, guiding her to the galley, his hand on her arm. “Eat first, learn later.”

* * *

“What the hell are they doing in there?” Janson demanded. “I’m getting bored.”

“It’s Solo,” Hobbie pointed out. “What do you _think_?”

“Hobs,” sighed Tycho, “you’re an idiot.”

“Maybe she’s tearing him a new asshole,” Janson mused. “They do like to fight.”

“Have you seen them fight lately? Besides, we’d hear ‘em,” Wedge said.

* * *

“Your turn,” Han said. “You remember how I did it?”

Leia rolled her eyes at him, but turned back to the plate where she had assembled the sandwich, focused intently on her task. “Butter it on both sides, cheese and fixings in the middle.” She put it down on the hot griddle and flinched slightly as the butter sizzled.

Han took the spatula from her and used it to gently press down on the sandwich as it cooked. He handed the spatula back to her. “Should be ready now,” he said.

She flipped the sandwich to the other side and gave a little laugh as the sizzling sound happened again.

“See?” Han said. “Cooking’s not so hard. You’re doing just fine.”

She looked at him. “It’s a _sandwich_. Not exactly grand cuisine.”

“Not everybody wants grand cuisine. And you’re just learning; we don’t start with a full course meal,” he said. “Other side’s ready.”

She moved the sandwich off the griddle to the plate as Han turned off the little stove, then followed him into the lounge with their simple late-night meal: grilled nerf cheese sandwiches.

He was studying her as they sat down to eat. “You know,” he said, taking a bite, “it won’t kill you to try something you’re not instantly good at doing. You might even enjoy it,” he said.

Leia took a break from greedily chomping down on her sandwich to answer. “Nah, doesn’t sound like me,” she breezed. Han laughed, and she joined him.

The tension that had been stretched between them the last few weeks was nowhere to be found; now they could talk, and eat, and laugh off the stresses of the day. By the time they’d finished their food, it was quite late.

Han looked outside. “Think they gave up. But who knows. You want me to walk you back?”

Leia looked unsure.

“Or you could—stay here,” he offered.

“Captain,” she flirted, “what kind of girl do you think I am?”

Han watched her leave until her white-clad figure disappeared into the hangar. _Good night, Leia_.

* * *

Han loved having a secret between them. It was almost as good as having a real affair (not that he wanted that, of course; don't be ridiculous). They’d always been good at improvising together; when they weren’t clashing, they made an excellent team on missions. They’d pretended to be married at least twice; young lovers, once; and somehow even when they weren’t playing people who were together they ended up flirting a bit.

To their mutual delight, the trap they’d set was working perfectly. The Rogues had mostly given up on pursuing them during their “lessons”; they played sabacc nearby in case there was something to see, but there never was.

To up the ante, Leia and Han had gotten bolder with their interactions in public. More than once he’d drawn just a little closer to her than a friend would normally do, and her face would tip up to look at his, so close—and then she would step back, or make a snide remark, or poke her clipboard into his chest and then turn on her heel to leave. Every time, Han could swear he heard the groans of a set of disappointed Rogues in the background.

* * *

What wasn’t fun was being hauled in front of General Dodonna, who seemed vehemently opposed to Han being within fifty feet of the Princess, much less flirting with her. Han looked steaming mad when Leia arrived on the _Falcon_ for their cooking lesson that night.

“Oh, you, too?” she asked mildly, stirring the sauce for the pasta.

“I thought I was the only one,” he said, clearly still mad but trying not to take it out on her.

Leia rolled her eyes at the situation. “Every few months, they pull me in to remind me to ‘consider my station’ and ‘remember that I am a role model’ and a bunch of other garbage that’s just code for ‘’please stay a virgin long enough for us to marry you off.’ Just ignore it.”

As they sat down with their pasta, Han was still visibly upset.

“Why does this bother you so much?” she asked.

“Why doesn’t it bother you at all? You said they do this a lot—why aren’t you pissed that they treat you like a piece of damn _merchandise_?” he responded.

She was about to try to calm him again, to tell him it was all right, but—it wasn’t. So she didn’t. “I am,” she said.

“Sweetheart. I’ve seen you pissed off. This ain’t it.”

“I AM,” she said more forcefully. After a beat, she picked up her fork again and looked down at her meal. “Just isn’t a lot I can do about it.”

“So you try to ignore it,” he finished.

“Yeah.”

They ate their meal in silence for a few minutes, then Han caught Leia’s eye. “’M sorry,” he said quietly.

She smiled. “It’s okay. I’m sorry they dragged you into it.”

Han shrugged. “Can’t be trusted with the merchandise, I guess.” Leia laughed.

* * *

The next day, Leia found Han in the mess and strode up to him with that “I have some very official Alliance business to discuss with you” face. Though, lately that face had also been the “aggressively fake-flirting with you in public” face. So Han wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

“Captain Solo,” she said icily, “may I have a word with you?”

Han smirked at the group of pilots with whom he’d been eating and got up. “Sure, Your Worship.”

When they were alone, Leia’s cold look turned mischievous. “I have a terrible idea,” she said with a wicked smile.

_I think I like devious Leia most of all_ , he thought, and that was only reinforced when she told him her plan.

* * *

“Wampa four to Wampa one, almost confirmed! ALMOST CONFIRMED!” Hobbie’s voice crackled over Wedge’s comm, and the Rogues abandoned their sabacc game to race to the _Falcon_ , where they saw a small figure walking up the ramp.

“Almost confirmed my ass,” Wedge said. “First of all, she could just be going there for whatever reason she’s gone there for the last three months. And second, it’s so kriffing cold _I’m_ about to ask to get on the _Falcon_. At least their heat works.”

“Now I know why Solo said no to the game…” Janson said with glee.

“No kiss, no credits,” Wedge reminded them.

* * *

“I may not have thought this all the way through,” Leia admitted. They were standing in Han’s cabin, Leia wearing his old Corellian Dreadnoughts t-shirt, Han in another t-shirt and sleep pants.

She’d been so pleased with herself when she’d come up with it. _Let them think I’ve already ruined the merchandise_ , she’d thought. _Let them think I’m ruining the merchandise every damned night_. And she could win more money for the Alliance while she was at it. So she’d arranged to slip quietly to the _Falcon_ , where she would spend the night with Han, in his cabin.

Actual sleeping arrangements were the thing she hadn’t considered.

“S’ okay. I’ll sleep on the floor,” he offered.

“No, I’ll sleep on the floor. This was my idea.”

Han shook his head. “That won’t work. Chewie will figure it out if you sleep on the floor. He’ll be able to tell you weren’t in my bunk.” At her confused look, he sniffed. Chewie had a sharp sense of smell.

“Ah.” She looked at the bunk again, and then back at Han. “Well, if you promise to behave yourself—“ Han’s eyes widened, then he smiled.

“’Course. But I’m all right on the floor, too.”

“It’s too cold.” She turned down the blanket with a flourish. “Get in my bed, flyboy.”

“In _whose_ bed?” Han teased, but he was already moving toward her.

* * *

The next few weeks were the most fun Leia could remember having since before Yavin. During the day, the monotony of briefings and patrols and requisition forms and horrid rations was broken with fake arguments and the thrill of getting so, so, so very close to that thing that she wasn’t supposed to touch, so close—and then walking away.

And most nights, she lay beside Han in his bunk, wearing his shirt, and they talked—about their days, about Luke, about Chewie, about Alderaan, about the planet where their next mission would be, about how Dodonna had been nearly apoplectic when he’d pulled her aside this time, about how the Rogues had nearly lost their minds when Chewie bet on their getting together but wouldn’t tell anyone why. Sure, she talked with Luke a lot, but somehow she found it easier to relate to Han.

But then the planet they talked about was Ord Mantell, and afterward Leia told herself she was glad she’d never really gotten that close. Then the arguments were real again, and her quarters seemed impossibly cold, and she was tired of the Rogues doing a terrible job of stealthily following her around the base.

And then one day, she saw Han tell General Rieekan that he had to go, he couldn’t stay anymore.

And not long after, they had to close the doors for the night.

And then she’d written him off, only to have him stumble into the command center as the base crumbled around them. “You have your clearance to leave!” she’d snapped. He wasn't leaving without her.

But not long after they’d finally both stopped pretending, he was gone.

* * *

Leia turned when she heard the door to Luke’s medbay room open. It was Wedge.

She gave him a wan smile, and gestured to the bed to let him know that Luke was sleeping.

“It might be a while before he wakes up. They’re setting him up with the prosthetic in the morning,” she explained.

Wedge nodded, sitting down beside her. “Came to see you, too,” he said, his eyes concerned.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Wedge took out an envelope and put it into her hands. There was a pile of credits in it. She looked back at him curiously.

Wedge smiled. “You two were just playing us all along, weren’t you,” he said.

Leia gave something that was the start of a laugh, but cut off. _I think we managed to play_ ourselves. “That kriffing bet,” she muttered softly, then looked up at Wedge.

“We lost, you know,” she said. “We—I told him I loved him. Before.”

“Good,” said Wedge.

Leia started to give the envelope back, but he waved it away. “No, no. We decided. It’s for—the rescue. “ He looked her directly in the eye. “You’re going to get him back, Lei.”

She nodded, though she didn’t know whether to believe him. Wedge gave her hand a light squeeze, then got up and sat down beside the bed where Luke was sleeping, taking Luke’s remaining hand in his own.

Leia looked down at the credits in her hand. _Never tell me the odds_ , Han had said. And she was a betting woman now.


End file.
